“I took three steps back; he nudged the door closed with his foot. “You like Mexican?” he asked.“I—” I’d like to know what you’re doing inside my house!“Tacos?”“Tacos?” I echoed.This seemed to amuse him. “Tomatoes, lettuce, cheese.”“I know what a taco is!”

“Tacos.""Tacos?" I echoed.This seemed to amuse him. "Tomatoes, lettuce, cheese.""I know what a taco is!”

“First,” he said, coming behind me and placing his hands on the counter, just outside of mine, “choose your tomato.” He dipped his head so his mouth was at my ear. His breath was warm, tickling my skin. “Good. Now pick up the knife.”“Does the chef always stand this close?” I asked, not sure if I liked or feared the flutter his closeness caused inside me.“When he’s revealing culinary secrets, yes.”

“Do you think they're going to buy that a guy in tacky leather chaps dances like this?" I scoffed when he twirled me back into his embrace. "Keep it up, and I'll put you in the chaps." He didn't smile, but I sensed an undercurrent of amusement.”

“Shouldn’t you be working instead of fraternizing with customers?” I choked.He smiled. “What are you doing Sunday night?”I snorted. By accident. “Are you asking me out?”“You’re getting cocky. I like that, Angel.”“I don’t care what you like. I’m not going out with you. Not on a date. Not alone.”

“Your file was empty. Nothing. Not even an immunization record.” He didn’t even pretend to look surprised. He eased back in his seat, eyes gleaming obsidian.“And you’re telling me this because you’re afraid I might cause an outbreak? Measles or mumps?”“I’m telling you this because I want you to know that I know something about you isn’t right. You haven’t fooled everybody. I’m going to find out what you’re up to. I’m going to expose you.”“Looking forward to it.”I flushed, catching the innuendo too late.”

“Are you crazy?" I said."Crazy about you.""Patch!""Don't worry, we've got time.""How do you know?"He staggered back a step, with his hand over his heart. "Your lack of faith hurts.”